


After the Adventure

by Raicho



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Altean Lance (Voltron), Alternate Universe - Canon, Domestic Fluff, Future Fic, Implied Mpreg, Kid Fic, Low-Key Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-10
Updated: 2019-04-10
Packaged: 2020-01-07 01:39:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18400526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raicho/pseuds/Raicho
Summary: The two turn to face each other, pressing their bodies closely together and cocooning themselves inside the lingering heat of their bedding. Shiro reaches out to cup the side of his omega's face in a gentle caress, his calloused thumb brushing over the blue scale beneath Lance’s eye—one of the most prominent reminders of Lance’s time fighting in far-off galaxies as a member of Team Voltron during his youth. Thin slits of morning light float into their bedroom through the gaps between the curtains; the soft glow of dawn helps to illuminate the beautiful caramel tones of the dusting of freckles across the ridge of Lance’s pointed nose and his scales sparkle like stardust and pure snow. Shiro watches as Lance owlishly blinks his eyes, his irises are a curious mixture of sapphire and aquamarine as they reflect the morning sunlight.[The domestic low-key A/B/O implied-mpreg canon!Altean Shance fic that absolutely no one ever asked for.]





	After the Adventure

            It’s approximately 0800 on a Saturday morning when the telephone suddenly rings at the residence of 1310 West Ocean View Drive; its unexpected and intrusive noise acts as an urgent alarm, forcing the household awake and into a seemingly chaotic frenzy. From the next bedroom over, their fifteen-month-old daughter, Ayumi, stirs from her dreamy slumber and begins her morning routine of demanding her parents’ undivided attention—soft, sniffling whimpers quickly escalate into full-blown wails of deafening despair while the phone continues to go unanswered. The dog begins barking in response to the commotion.

 

            “Shiro…” Lance grumbles as he pushes his forehead further into the blissfully warm space between his alpha’s shoulder blades.

 

            Shiro begrudgingly opens his eyes only to wince at the bright light of dawn, recoiling back into the familiar darkness of their blankets. Lance tickles his leg with cold toes and Shiro can’t help but grumble, “‘S too early…”

 

            “Mmyeah.” Lance agrees and curls himself more tightly around Shiro’s broad back. “Shouldn’t have stayed up so late last night.”

 

            Shiro smirks, “If I remember correctly, weren’t you the one keeping me up so late?”

 

            Brief flashes of an intimate evening spent alone in the privacy of their bedroom ignite Lance’s memory and instantly cause his face to burn with a pink-tinged blush. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 

            Shiro snorts his amusement.

 

            The two turn to face each other, pressing their bodies closely together and cocooning themselves inside the lingering heat of their bedding. Shiro reaches out to cup the side of his omega's face in a gentle caress, his calloused thumb brushing over the blue scale beneath Lance’s eye—one of the most prominent reminders of Lance’s time fighting in far-off galaxies as a member of Team Voltron during his youth. Thin slits of morning light float into their bedroom through the gaps between the curtains; the soft glow of dawn helps to illuminate the beautiful caramel tones of the dusting of freckles across the ridge of Lance’s pointed nose and his scales sparkle like stardust and pure snow. Shiro watches as Lance owlishly blinks his eyes, his irises are a curious mixture of sapphire and aquamarine as they reflect the morning sunlight.

 

            “You’re beautiful.” Shiro compliments Lance’s effortless beauty.

 

            Lance offers a shy smile, his eyes crinkle with crow’s feet in the corners as he blushes in response to Shiro’s suave compliment. “And you’re—”

 

            “Daddy!” A young girl’s high-pitched squeal echoes through the upstairs hallway, interrupting and shattering the illusion of peace that was gradually rebuilding between the lazy couple.

 

            Lance can’t help but cringe at the sound of his ten-year-old daughter, Arielle, calling for him. “Please, five more minutes…” he begs aloud to no one in particular.

 

            “Daddy!” Arielle yells again, this time a decibel louder.

 

            The children are awake. The phone begins to ring again. The baby is still crying. The dog is still barking. Lance rubs a hand through his silver, sleep-mussed hair and groans.

           

            “C’mon, Babe, time to rise and shine.” Shiro tries to motivate his husband with a light smack to Lance’s rear before he peels himself out of bed. Using one arm, Shiro gets dressed, donning a pair of old sweatpants and a faded black t-shirt before he grabs his prosthetic Altean-tech arm from the top of the dresser and activates its control switch. With his prosthetic arm at his side and ready for action, Shiro then takes a quick moment to lean over the cozy lump still curled snuggly within the nest of blankets and kisses Lance’s head before leaving the bedroom to greet the day.

 

            Lance lets out a reluctant sigh as he watches his mate walk out of their bedroom to tend to both the baby and the demanding telephone. His sulking quickly morphs into mild aggravation as he sees the appearance of his eldest daughter, Arielle, glaring at him from the doorway. The ten-year-old comes stomping into her parents’ bedroom with her hands on her hips and a pout on her face.

 

            “Yes, mi Niña?” Lance’s voice is deceivingly peppy for his current level of wakefulness.

 

            “Daddy, Adam put worms in my sock drawer!” Arielle’s bottom lip quivers as she tattles on her younger brother.

 

            Lance expertly hides his silent chuckle behind the camouflage of his duvet as he watches his daughter fume with unrivaled annoyance for a seven-year-old boy. He observes Arielle as she puffs out her chest and looks to him for confirmation, just waiting for Lance to gasp in horror at the mischievous actions of his only son.

 

            Adam always did take after Lance when it came to his unrelenting pranks and playful banter, so it’s really no surprise whenever Ava or Arielle come to tattle. Adam is so much like Lance that it’s almost scary. His son shares his same high-spirited personality as well as his love for adventure and laughter. They share the same eye color, skin tone, and Adam’s hair is even the same chocolate-brown that Lance used to sport back in the day before he’d been gifted Allura’s transfer of quintessence. But Arielle? She’s a spitting image of Shiro. If her long black hair and cool grey eyes didn’t make it apparent enough that she was Shiro’s daughter, then her knack for leadership and commitment to personal responsibility would definitely clear any lingering doubt. Lance’s heart swells with pride at the sight of her.

 

            Beaming, Lance gently pats the bedding beside him, signaling for Arielle to come sit. “Ari, are you sure Adam would do something like that?” He hugs Arielle close to his chest and sweeps her long black hair away from her grey eyes—they remind him so much of Shiro’s. “Maybe the worms were cold outside and wanted to come in for a visit, hmm?” Lance teases as he pulls his daughter’s hair into a loose ponytail using the spare elastic tie he’s kept around his wrist ever since he realized the struggle of having to tame the wild of hair of three daughters. Lance looks into her eyes and watches as Arielle’s stern face caves into a reluctant smile—he knows Arielle always has a hard time staying mad when it came to her family.

 

            “Daddy…”

 

            “Alright, alright!” Lance flops back onto the bed and rolls over to the side of his nightstand to reach for his blue _Shark Week_ hoodie that Hunk had gifted to him back before Ava was born—it’s an extra-large size originally meant to accommodate for his baby belly back then, but now it’s a perfectly loose-fitted relaxation piece for his loungewear wardrobe. “I’ll tell you what,” Lance starts as he pulls the hoodie over his head, “how about you go find Papa and help him take care of Yumi and Ava so he can get off the phone quicker. And I’ll go have a talk with Adam. I promise I’ll make sure he cleans up the worms, too. And then we can all have some chocolate chip pancakes! Sound good?”

 

            Arielle looks a bit skeptical about the offered suggestion, but she eventually nods her agreement. “Okay! But you have to make him promise he won’t do it again.” Arielle reaches up to wrap her arms around Lance’s neck as she leans in to give him a big kiss on his cheek. She whispers into his ear with an innocent giggle, “‘Cause I don’t think the worms like the smell of socks…”

 

            Lance can’t contain his hysterical laughter.


End file.
